At this point, I’m just gibbering. Jen, so glad ur thing went well. Here’s what basically amounts to fanfiction. Sorry about all the OOC UuU;. (as a note, this is all just imaginary and not plotted)
Four times Roje touched Eres and one time Eres touched Roje. (TW death, injury, blood)
The first time is more an act of utility than affection. Someone is shooting at them. Gunfire cracks like thunder. Bullets hit the wall behind them and dust and plaster shower down. Eres is running. He could be running faster. Roje grabs at him and pulls. They stumble outside, down streets, through alleys and eventually the sound of gunfire fades away behind them.
Roje and Eres flop against a brick wall, gasping for breath.
"Well that was exciting," Eres says between gulps of air. In all their time working together, this is the most disheveled he's ever looked.
Roje pulls in controlled breaths through his nose. "I'd very much like it if we didn't have to do that again."
"You didn't have to come with me, you know," Eres says. "I would have been fine."
"I know," Roje replies. "But I wanted to."
When Eres doesn't respond, Roje says, "We should get moving. Thea's waiting at the safehouse."
He moves to stand, only to find himself linked to Eres. Somewhere in the midst of the gunfire and the panic, they'd laced their fingers together, holding firm.
Roje stares at their joined hands like he's just discovered alien life. Eres, to his credit, remains slightly more composed. He politely disengages, easing his hand out of Roje’s.
"Another time," he tells them, demure. He winks.
Roje stares at him. "Do you have something in your eye?"
—
The next time is much more mundane. They’re casing a museum from the roof of a building across the street. The fire escape they use to scale it is rickety and treacherous and Roje turns to offer Eres a hand up without thinking.
Eres hesitates for only a moment before he reaches out, allowing Roje to pull him up. His hand is warm. Roje’s paying enough attention this time to register the lacework of scars along the back of his knuckles.
—
Roje wakes up a few miles south of Novae Terra. Thea’s got the radio on, volume low. Rachel’s using her fingers to drum along to it on the steering wheel. They don’t usually ride back together like this, but the heist had gone pear-shaped at the end. A quick, united getaway was the best option. Which meant cramming into Rachel’s car and driving until the target was nothing but a distant speck in the rearview mirror.
Roje looks to their left. Pan’s there, legs crossed, foot tapping She looks bored and vaguely resentful that she has to spend her time crammed into the back of Rachel’s car. Safe and fine then. Roje looks to their left and-
Oh. That makes sense. How comfortable they were. The fact that the world was sitting at a slight diagonal.
“Sorry,” They tell Eres, righting themself so they’re not leaning against him anymore.
Eres slides his attention away from the scenery to Roje’s face. They watch his pupils move down then back up. They’re not sure what Eres is searching for in that moment, but whatever it is, he seems satisfied.
“It’s fine,” he says, turning back to the window, chin propped on his hand.
“Did I drool on you?
“No.”
—
“It will heal Roje, it always does.”
“It’s bleeding now.” It's another job. Another place they're not supposed to be. There was a first aid kit in the bathroom inside. They hadn’t even had a chance to move before Eres had punched through the window in their way. “We could have used something else, you know.”
“But this was so much faster,” Eres lilts, tone light. It turns into a hiss when Roje dumps alcohol over lacerations on his knuckles. They’re already looking better than they did a few minutes ago. Now they won’t be so vulnerable to infection.
“See,” Eres chides through gritted teeth. “Better already.” “Still looks like it hurts,” Roje dabs away the blood, achingly careful. "It does," Eres admits, slowly. "Hardly matters now." "Matters to me," Roje says, smoothing his thumb over a fresh new scar. Even after the cuts have knit themselves together, Eres doesn’t pull away.
—
Being reborn isn't an easy or pleasant experience. It’s exhausting. Embarrassing. Painful. Every machine in the factory switches on at once and Roje is forced awake, coughing and blinking and renewed. Everything hurts. Thinking returns in pieces.
They remember the gun. The bullet wound. Pan-
"Welcome back," Eres says. His voice is rough. He sounds tired.
Roje looks at him, the world pulls slowly into focus. Thea’s asleep at their side. Pan with her head on his leg. No blood on her. No bullet wound. Good. Rachel is balled up tight at the foot of the mattress. Someone's tucked a blanket over her. Roje looks at Eres.
"We agreed to take shifts, until you woke up," he explains, running a hand over his face. There's blood all over him. Roje knows some of it is theirs.
"Fox?" Roje asks.
Eres shakes his head. "Got away."
"I'm sorry."
"It's fine."
"No its-" Roje looks around the room. Thea, Rachel, and Pan all curled around them. Eres slumped against the wall. They knew he would come back, and yet, here they are. "It's not. You didn't need to stay. I would have been fine. I-"
"Roje," Eres cuts him off. His voice is still hushed, mindful of the others, but the tone has changed. It's firmer now. The way he talks when he wants to be listened to. “We knew that. But we wanted to.”
Roje blinks. Weeping has never come naturally to them. It doesn’t now. They’re in a dark room on a mattress soaked with their own blood, surrounded by people that stayed.
They’re the happiest they’ve been in a very long time.
It’s not like them to ask, to impose. Or rather, it wasn’t like them before. He’s changing. He can feel it. Their heart only restarted a few minutes ago and it’s already full to the point of bursting. Everyone else is beside them. Eres is entirely too far away.
They reach out, “C’mere?”
Eres’s eyes narrow. Roje doesn’t stop reaching. He sighs, pushes himself up and shuffles to the bed. “Only because you die- woaw, hey!”
He’s saying something now. Complaining about his ruined suit. About the indignity of getting pulled into a bloody puppy pile. Roje tugs Eres into place and closes their eyes. They hum as his hand settles in their hair. They fall sleep, lulled by the sound of Eres’s voice and the insistent, steady beat of his heart.
@dcves <3
